


Michael Arclight Gets a Furby

by atlas_of_galaxies



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: arclight family shenanigans, i'm tellin ya man furbies are evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-15 20:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10557476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlas_of_galaxies/pseuds/atlas_of_galaxies
Summary: Tron bought his youngest son one of those infamous Furbies, and Thomas and Chris aren't too happy about it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> from the Yugioh Spinoff Fillathon. @the anon who dropped that prompt ily

"Oh my god, he's doing it again" is Thomas' greeting for his older brother as he enters the dim living room, lit only by the lamp upon the table next to Chris.

The eldest Arclight arches an elegant eyebrow and rustles his newspaper to acknowledge his presence. "Doing what, Thomas?"

The middle brother flops onto the couch beside him, his head in his hands. "He's tucking in that ... _monster!!_ " He dramatically points down the hall to where Michael's room is located.

Chris doesn't move his gaze from the newspaper he holds. "What monster?"

Thomas lunges forward and tears the newspaper out of his grasp, forcing the elder brother to look at the younger. Chris doesn't really mind; he wasn't actually reading it, anyway. It just made him feel cool and mature. 

"That thing that Tron bought him a few days ago!" The middle brother cries out helplessly. "The _Furby!!_ "

"Ah, yes, that," Chris calmly responds. "What's so monstrous about it?"

Thomas stares at him as if he just suggested that card games aren't life. "Have you _seen_ it?" he whimpers, curling up into a ball, his head on Chris' lap. "It's a horrifying beast that never shuts up. Michael was trying to get it to be quiet for a solid ten minutes before I ran out of earshot of its satanic jargon."

The eldest Arclight lets out a soft sigh as he pats his brother's head. "It's a toy, Thomas. And it's fine if Michael is going through a phase like this; didn't you tuck your dolls in to bed for years, anyway?"

Thomas, who had been calmed for a few minutes as his brother's petting soothed his nerves, immediately whips his head around and throws Chris' hand off him. "Don't you _dare_ compare my dolls to that _monstrosity!!_ "

The older brother stares at him with tired blue eyes. His patience has grown wondrous amounts in the past few years, but even he has a breaking point. "I don't see the difference," he says in a monotone voice.

He finds his younger brother's gaze boring into his with his flaming magenta eyes. "My dolls don't continue to talk when their batteries are removed," he whispers, his voice low and laced with fear.

Chris' brow furrows in confusion. "Wait, do you mean--"

He falls silent the second he sees their youngest brother enter the room.

Michael stands there, in his pajamas - they're covered with little decals of fossils - luckily without his cursed toy.

"Hello, brothers," the pink-haired boy says cheerfully, blissfully unaware of the fact that his older brothers were talking about him mere moments before. "Are you two heading to bed soon? I just put Tay-toh to sleep. He took forever to settle down, though..." He lets out a wistful sigh, a faint smile on his face. It's horrifying.

"Yes, we'll go to bed in just a moment," Chris promises. He gives Thomas a brief squeeze on the shoulder: _'stay behind'_ , it means.

"Alright!" Michael hums. He gives his two brothers hugs before returning to his room where the beast rests.

Once he's sure he's out of earshot, Chris turns to Thomas on the sofa. "Were you implying that those toys don't require batteries to run?"

His brother shoots him a dark glance. "That's what the legends say." He hesitates for a moment, mouth open, eyes darting from side to side. "Do you think think we should ... test that theory?"

To his surprise, Chris nods, his expression grave. "We cannot let Michael keep such an object so close to him while he sleeps," he insists.

Thomas steels his gaze and glances down the hallway towards Michael's room. "Right. We do it for him." He tilts his head back at his brother, magenta eyes meeting blue. "Meet you outside his room at 2 a.m.?"

"See you then."

\---

Thomas quietly rises at 1:58 a.m sharp to _Hollaback Girl_ and meets his brother in wool socks on the carpet outside of Michael's room two minutes later.

After exchanging a quick nod, Chris silently opens the door and slips into his youngest brother's room, Thomas following close behind.

Once inside, Thomas has to clap his hands over his mouth to stop himself from screaming.

...No, Michael isn't dead, he's curled up in his bed, perfectly okay.

It's the _thing_ that's curled up in its own little demon bed that almost causes him to yell.

Chris leads the way, with Thomas following more reluctantly than before. He stares in numb horror as his older brother reaches into the beast's crypt and pulls it out of its lair with a steady hand. The silver-haired man reaches into his nightgown pocket and removes a screwdriver. He turns to Thomas, gingerly holding the toy in one hand and positioning the screwdriver over it with the other. He gestures for his brother to take the Furby; the middle Arclight receives it with shaking hands and great reluctance.

Chris inserts the screwdriver into the groove of the first screw and is about to start removing its insides when--

"Tell me a story!"

Unfortunately, this time, Thomas' hands are preoccupied with containing the beast, so he has nothing to block out the high-pitched shriek he lets out in response to the Furby's sudden request.

The eldest Arclight stares at him, not daring to move as Michael shifts in bed behind him. They hold their breath, praying that the devil in Thomas' grasp won't demand anything else, like the offering of their souls, for example.

They let out quiet sighs of relief as Michael settles down again, and Chris slowly unwinds each screw on the creature's unholy shell.

Finally, he removes the lid, and the two brothers gaze upon Satan's organs, better known as four AA batteries.

With bated breath he probably doesn't realize he's holding, Chris removes each battery, one by one. He drops them to the carpeted floor, each one landing with a muffled _thump_.

When they're finished, Thomas looks up at his brother. His blue eyes look more haunted and disturbed than he's ever seen them before.

"We're done," the middle Arclight whispers in reassurance. "We've freed Michael."

"Mm? Freed me from what?"

Thomas freezes and Chris whirls around, both staring at their little brother, who's currently sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes and blinking blearily at the two of them.

"Uh," Thomas unhelpfully stutters, suddenly moving to hide the gutted Furby behind his back. He's not fast enough, however.

Michael frowns at him through the darkness. "Was that Tay-toh? What are you doing to him?"

Chris glances back feebly at the middle brother. Both are at a loss for words. How are they supposed to explain to their little brother that they just killed his favorite plaything for his sake?

That same plaything, however, answers for them behind Thomas' back.

"Peekaboo! I see you!"

The glass that shatters from the impact of the Furby being chucked at the window just barely misses the three brothers by a few inches.


End file.
